Post Sub Rosa Please read ad rw
by PCBW
Summary: What happened after Beverly's encounter with Ronan.


Jean Luc Picard, though having been to many planets in his lifetime, had never been to Caldos, the home of his Chief Medical Officer and closest friend. Over breakfast, she would often speak of it. In florid language she would often paint a picture of a quiet planet with rolling hills and crisp, clean air. Though he had always wanted to go, the Enterprise had never been called to her orbit… until now. Just days ago over, Beverly Crusher had received word that her Nana had died. Beverly had often spoken of her Nana. Though he had never met her personally, he had seen a photo of her in Beverly's office. She was a petite woman whose figure was very much unlike Beverly's; Beverly towered above her small frame. Felisa's hair was grayed with age – often tied into a neat bun on the top of her head. And, most notably, Felisa's eyes were a deep emerald that contrasted starkly with Beverly's vibrant blue. Though a somewhat curious occurrence, Picard never thought anything of it. Upon hearing of her death, Beverly was devastated, taking days off from work – an unusual occurrence for her. She skipped breakfasts with the Captain and shied away from all company – even Deana's. However, even this isolated behaviour was no match for what was to come. Felisa's death and funeral had elicited a change in Beverly that even Picard, who had known her longest, could not put a finger on. Beverly became despondent, isolated, abrupt and even terse. Picard observed from afar, she was not outwardly sad, but distant. He tried to speak with her, but she seemed to be under a spell. Being gentlemanly and polite, he did not probe, chocking her mood up to sadness and loss. But, as the days progressed, Beverly began spending more and more time on the planet. She missed shifts and staff meetings. This behaviour in itself was perplexing but it was no match for what came just days later; Beverly had filled out a formal resignation. As if the ship and her friends meant nothing, she said nothing to no one, hoping to shy away quietly without any big goodbye. The second the resignation came through to Picard, he stormed out of his office to find her.

"How could she do this!" Picard muttered under his breath as he stormed towards her quarters, "how could she leave this ship? How could she leave ME? Does out friendship mean nothing to her? Do I mean ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to her?" He got to her quarters where he entered the door override code. He stormed angrily though the threshold only to find her cabin cleaned out and deserted. "Computer, location of Dr. Crusher" "Dr. Crusher is in Transporter Room 3", the generic female voice returned coolly. Knowing he had only moments to get to her, he picked up the pace. His fuming temper still raging, he stormed into the transporter room to find Beverly, stripped of her Starfleet uniform and instead donning a demure, highly conservative black frock. All of her belongings lay at her feet, ready to transport along with her. The two of them exchanged angry words, ending with Beverly ultimately leaving her oldest friend watching her dematerialize out of his life and into a haze of blue.

No. It was decided that he would go after her; he would find out why she acting like this. Deana had told him that Beverly had met a man on the surface, but his gut told him there was something wholly sinister and cagey about the whole set up. So, later that evening, Picard beamed down to the surface.

The night on Caldos was cool and calm. The lights in the homes were generally off by 9pm, adding to the evening's darkness. He saw Beverly's house still lit by a warm fire. Cautiously, he strode up the front walkway. His eyes nearly dropped with the sight that was in front of him when he walked in the door: Beverly entranced in a strange state of pleasure. This, however, was no match for the creature, Ronin, who he was about to meet. Ronan was tall, masculine, and well built. Beverly had been unnaturally possessive towards him during his and Picard's first meeting. However, this blind love seemed to vanish and the second that Ronin had threatened Picard's life; Picard had exposed Ronin's true nature and ill intent with a couple of carefully placed and probing inquiries. Moreover, upon the suggestion that Geordi and Data exhume Felisa's gave, noting a strange energy reading emanating from it, Ronin had sprinted into action; Picard had tried to rescue Beverly. However, in the process he had been attacked; a green lightening shock had blocked Picard's attempt to escape with Beverly, sending his artificial heart into atrial fibrillation and temporarily rendering him unconscious. With her Captain on the floor and her new lover now disappeared, Beverly, out of the haze of her mind, returned to her training. She grabbed the only memento of her time at Starfleet – her personal medical kit – and began to take Jean Luc's readings. Her free hand she placed on his body, desperately searching for any indication that he was alright; Was he breathing? Did he have a pulse? The tricorder could not gather information fast enough. She was as frantic as the messy red curls strewn about her face. Why was it always moments when he was on the cusp of being ripped from her did she feel the need to express her love towards him? Why couldn't she have said it a few weeks ago after they had been rescued from Kesprytt 3? Why did she have to be such a pig-headed fool and leave his cabin that night, lying to him and making excuses not to pursue the one thing she desperately wanted for so long? There were so many things she needed to say to him; there was so much undone between them that had to be mended. His limp body began to stir. She breathed a small sigh of relief. Her free hand wandered up to cradle his cheek. Feeling the warmth of his bare skin and the faint pulse of his carotid allowed her to exhale all the way. "Go, Beverly, go to the cemetery," he whispered, out of harm's way. _No_, she groaned inwardly. She didn't want to leave him. She wanted to cradle him right there on the old floor, cry into the shoulder of his uniform, and apologise for leaving him, again.

He watched her get up from the floor and discard her tricorder on the mantle. The silk nightgown she donned was enough to knock his heart back out of rhythm. It accented her curves perfectly, showing just the right amount of leg to make his imagination go wild. He wanted to follow her, put his arms around her, hold her hand, and just protect her. He knew, intuitively that no harm would come to her – she had good training, and Ronan had needed her too much to hurt her, but he still wanted to be with her. Lying on the hard floor, he wished to God that none of this had ever happened. He wished he could go back and redo the past three months. He went over the night after Kesprytt 3 again and again in his head each night. Could he have gone about broaching their relationship differently? Should he not have brought it up at all after dinner? It was not as if the conversation had turned dull enough that he had to bring another dimension into it? He stared up at the ceiling, waiting to muster enough strength to stand.

Minutes later, Beverly walked back to the cabin. She hung her shoulders low, and tears streamed from her now, once again, ocean-blue eyes. Geordi and Data were going to be fine. They had been beamed from the surface to Sick Bay where Dr. Selar was perfectly capable of mending any and all damage. Picard sat up on the floor, rubbing his head, still not wanting to raise himself completely. Beverly limped across the threshold, feelings of embarrassment and shame weighing heavily on her shoulders. How could she have fallen for an anaphasic lifeform? Her logical mind should have picked out the warning signs that Ronan was not who he said he was. Her Nana's journals should have been proof enough that he was just a more highly evolved version of a common parasite; what 120 year old woman has a lover, Howard libido or not? She spotted Jean Luc in the same position she had left him, wiping the tears from her eyes, she rushed to his side, grabbing her tricorder on the way.

"Beverly, I promise, I'm fine," he put his hand up and brushed the tricorder away.

"I'll be the judge of that!" she shooed his hand away and resumed passing the tricorder over his chest. Acquiescing, he sat back, "Beverly, what just happened?" "You'll read about it in my report" she shot back tersely, using curtness to avoid having to once again steep herself in embarrassment. "Hey, Beverly," he whispered as he once again and this time much more definitively took the tricorder from her hand and laid it on the ground. Her mass of tangled red curls hid her face from his gaze. A single tear found it's way to the ground beside him. Bringing himself to his knees, he brought both his hands up to cradle her face, raising her head to meet his gaze. Her cheeks were streaked with salty tears, but her face was as flawless as an angel's. Even though her face wore a smile the best, tears seemed to elicit a different kind of delicate beauty. "Beverly, really look at me. It's OK. We're alright; you're fine, I'm fine, Data's fine, and so is Geordi. You made that happen." "Oh, Jean Luc, what is the matter with me? They always say that you get wiser with age, but I just seem to be getting more brash and reckless! I keep doing things that totally isolate me from –" Jean Luc cut her off, "me". Her eyes widened; there it was again. There HE was again. Her stomach sank like a lead weight upon hearing the truth actually sounded out. "Yes, I keep leaving you". Her cheeks began to burn with a heat as hot as the fire burning just feet from them. "We haven't spoken about that night three months ago after Kesprytt. I'm so sorry if I made you uncomfortable, or if I broached the topic of you and I too soon" he apologized, "when I heard you talk about Jack that night by the fire, I just got so jealous. I was always jealous of him for having you and, well, I should have done a better job of hiding it that night. I feel like it would have avoided a lot of pain for the both of us". Beverly smiled. She loved how he would often try to take the blame for things, always wanting to remove the onus from her shoulders and never wanting to see her hurt. "No Jean Luc, the truth will always come out. We have been dancing around each other for 25 years now with looks and glances, subtle flirting that we call friendship, and stolen fantasies and hidden desires that neither of us will own up to". She paused and looked around the room. This house was full of memories of a happy life – a life full of memories and no regrets. Beverly smiled, "I often found this home a sanctuary. Yes, it's painfully simple and terribly old fashioned, but there is something about it…" she turned to him, "Jean Luc if there is one thing that I learned from Nana other than her abilities as a healer, it was to not live a life of regrets. I've been ignoring that sage bit of wisdom for so long. I have so many regrets about us. I have regrets about Odan, John, Nella Darren, Vash, Elaine, and even sometimes, Jack. I hate that both of us have been so blinded by our fears and our ambition that we can't even begin to see what we have in front of us – " Jean Luc Picard had waited 25 years for Beverly to make that admission. Not being an overly emotive person, Jean Luc was suddenly overcome with a measure of emotion, feeling, and unbridled love for Beverly Howard. And for once, he wasn't afraid to show it. He once again cut her off, but this time not with his words, but with a kiss. Still kneeling, he straightened his torso as she did the same. He wrapped his strong arms about her as she slid her slender arms under his. She returned his kiss, deepening it, moving into it, enjoying it.

Ending the kiss with a gasp for air, Jean Luc opened his eyes, leaned his forehead against hers, and chuckled "now, what was it you were saying earlier about the Howard women and those exceptional libidos?"


End file.
